


Luck of the Draw

by lyricalballads



Category: The Mummy (1999), The Mummy Series
Genre: Crime, Gen, Humor, Murder, Obsessive Behavior, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27582635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricalballads/pseuds/lyricalballads
Summary: Through a crazy twist of fate involving a game of cards, mistaken identity, and a dead criminal, Beni has become a hero in the eyes of a widowed woman. It’s too bad she’s the most annoying woman in Cairo. Will he ever catch a break?
Kudos: 1





	1. A Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on fanfiction.net from 06/23/2012 to 01/04/2013.

Beni darted into Rick O'Connell's apartment and collapsed into the nearest chair, which happened to be the only chair in the room since O'Connell didn't bother with unnecessary furnishings. The only bit of extravagance was a large, colorful rug that Beni had helped him steal from a wealthy family's home two years ago, though it looked sadly out of place among the bare walls that desperately needed re-painting. The stolen rug was what got Beni back into O'Connell's good graces after the Hamunaptra incident, though it was only after O'Connell punched him in the face a couple of times and cracked one of his ribs, of course.

Luckily the man was so forgiving, it was almost laughable, and after stealing the rug they were back to their normal routine, in which Beni leeched off O'Connell for protection and O'Connell gave in to his big, sad eyes. It was a good arrangement when Beni was running for his life—like now.

He licked his dry lips and fumbled for the flask he kept in his pocket, then took a nervous swig.

O'Connell ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Who are you hiding from this time?"

"A woman," said Beni.

"Let me guess. Peeking up skirts again?"

"I would never!" Beni cried in mock-horror. He shot an anxious look at the door, then took another swig from his flask. "This woman is terrible. She is a crazy woman."

O'Connell leaned against the wall, arms crossed in front of his chest, and regarded Beni with all the calmness in the world, as if Beni had just informed him that the sky was blue. "How crazy?"

"The craziest woman in all of Cairo, I swear. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now she _swears_ she's devoted to me."

O'Connell started to chuckle, much to Beni's annoyance. "Is that right?"

"Unfortunately it is true," said Beni. "Maybe if you find me something to eat, I will tell you the story." Trying to avoid that woman had really worked up an appetite.

O'Connell grabbed a rickety wooden chair from the kitchen, along with some food he managed to scrounge out of the cupboards, and sat across from Beni with an easygoing patience that Beni had always envied a little. O'Connell probably wouldn't panic if a crazy woman was after _him_ , but of course O'Connell would have the good luck of getting chased by someone much more appealing. Beni swallowed down the hunk of bread O'Connell offered him and washed it down with gin from his flask.

"You know Double Ivan?" Beni asked.

"Sure," said O'Connell. "The big Russian guy that everyone hates?"

"That everyone _hated_ ," Beni corrected. "He is dead now."

"How the hell did _that_ happen?"

"It is a long story, O'Connell. And it is Double Ivan's fault that I'm being chased by the most annoying woman in Cairo."

Double Ivan's real name was Ivan Ivanov, which had to be the most idiotic name Beni had ever heard. He was a Russian-American who came from New Jersey and was connected with the biggest criminals in Cairo, though he appeared legitimate by operating a small restaurant. "Me and Ivan and some other guys were gambling in the basement of his restaurant," Beni continued. The place had been stupidly named "Ivan's", which showed that Double Ivan was either extremely conceited or too dumb to think of a name that wasn't his own. "We were playing cards and I was winning a lot of money until Ivan said I cheated, but of course I didn't cheat. You know I would never cheat!"

O'Connell snorted at this, but Beni ignored him and continued his story.

"So then I started pleading with Ivan, telling him to spare me because I have _so_ many children to feed." Beni ignored another snort from O'Connell. "But it turned out I was not the only one in trouble. Ivan started to accuse _everyone_ of cheating and got really angry. There were four of us and only one of Ivan, but nobody wanted to go against him except for the idiot Dutchman, Hans Van Der Veen. You know Van Der Veen, don't you?"

"The coke addict," said O'Connell.

"Yes, the coke addict. Van Der Veen went completely crazy and shot Ivan right in the chest. The bastard crumpled dead against the card table and everyone started shouting at each other, except for me of course, because I was looking for a way out of this mess, so then Van Der Veen pushed his gun into _my_ hand and ran off. And then _I_ ran off. But I didn't make it out of the basement because Walter Halloran's widow came down the stairs and saw me with the gun in my hand. Then she saw Ivan's dead body slumped against the table and thought I killed him."

"I've heard rumors that Ivan murdered her husband," O'Connell said thoughtfully.

"The rumors are probably true. Walter Halloran owed Ivan a lot of money. After Walter disappeared, his widow had to work in Ivan's restaurant to pay off her husband's debts. Mrs. Halloran hated Ivan more than anyone and when she thought that I killed him, she put her arms around me and wouldn't shut up about her husband's murder getting avenged. And then she started _crying_ all over me. I tried to tell her that Van Der Veen did it, but she wouldn't listen. And none of the other guys would help me because they were too busy getting out of the basement in case someone heard the gunshot and called the police."

It was one of the most aggravating moments of Beni's life. He had been desperate to leave as well, since _he_ was the one with a gun in his hand, but Mrs. Halloran—crazed with her thirst for vengeance—seemed to think he was a hero and wouldn't leave him alone. The restaurant staff must have smacked her around so many times, it damaged her fucking brain.

"Let me get this straight," said O'Connell. "The wife loses her husband and blames it on Ivan. She thinks _you_ killed Ivan, since the real killer ran off, and now she's crazy about you."

"You have hit the nail on the tail," said Beni, "as you Americans say."

"Nail on the _head,_ " O'Connell corrected. "Either way, what's the big deal? Doesn't sound so bad to me."

"Oh, but it gets worse. I finally managed to get out of the basement by telling Mrs. Halloran that the police would arrive soon. She started crying some more, telling me that she would never betray me to the police, but she let me go and I thought I had gotten rid of her. I hid the gun in my pocket and climbed out the basement window, then headed home and slept for an hour. But then somebody came knocking on my door and I thought it was the police, until _her_ voice came through the door. She had found out where I lived. So I climbed out a window _again_ and ran to your apartment."

Beni wasn't opposed to women knocking at his door, as long as they only sought him out for a quick good time and then left him alone. What he didn't want was some woman claiming that she was _grateful_ tohim and wanted to _devote_ herself to him, just because her enemy got shot by an idiot Dutchman who snorted cocaine. He still had Van Der Veen's gun in his pocket and would have to find someplace to hide it.

"So," said O'Connell, leaning back in his chair. "You're just gonna hide here until this broad forgets about you. Is that right?"

"What else can I do?" said Beni, looking at him with desperate eyes. "She knows where I live!"

"Maybe you should give her a chance. It seems like she actually likes you."

"You have obviously not met Constance Halloran. She doesn't like to swear, so she says dumb American words like 'gosh' and 'darn' all the time. And 'gee whiz.' What the hell does 'gee whiz' mean?"

"It's just something that people say," said O'Connell.

"Well she sounds like an idiot. And she won't shut up about how cruel Ivan was to her poor, departed husband. She could have shot Ivan herself if she hated him so much, and then I would not have to put up with this." Beni sighed and drank down the last drops from his flask. "What kind of a name is Ivan Ivanov, anyway? What would you do if your parents called you Connell O'Connell?"

A knock sounded at the door, cutting off O'Connell's reply, and Beni looked at him in horror.

"I think she has found me."


	2. An Annoyance

Beni got up from his seat, ready to climb out another window to escape the clutches of the most annoying woman in all of Cairo, but O'Connell grabbed him by the arm and dragged him towards the door. "Oh, no," he said. "You're staying right here, Beni."

"Can't you just let me hide and tell her I'm not here?" Beni pleaded.

"No. You're gonna face this woman and sort everything out. And how do you know she's the one knocking at the door anyway?"

"I _don't_ know," said Beni. "But I don't want to take any chances."

O'Connell sighed and opened the door, keeping a firm hold on Beni's arm. Beni tried to wriggle away, but O'Connell had an iron grip and held him in place while the woman in the doorway looked up at O'Connell with worried grey eyes.

"Hi, I was just wondering if—Oh! Beni, it's you!"

Constance Halloran threw her arms around Beni, pulling him out of O'Connell's grasp, and immediately began crying into his shoulder. "Gosh, I'm so glad I found you," she sobbed. "The cops questioned me about twenty minutes after you left the restaurant and listed me as a suspect, along with a few other people, but I never mentioned that you were there. I would die before telling them that you shot Ivan!"

"Get off me," said Beni. He tried to push her away, but she clung even more persistently.

"Those cops are going to be a darn nuisance, I just know it," she said. "But I'll be sure to lead them on a false trail. What's the name of that Dutchman? The one you keep trying to blame the murder on?"

"Van Der Veen," said Beni.

"Right! I'll tell them that Van Der Veen did it!"

"He _did_ do it. Now get off me."

Constance released Beni and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. She looked pathetic as she stood there in O'Connell's shabby apartment, drying her eyes after crying on Beni for the second time in a couple of hours. She wore a hat over her wavy black hair, but it was knocked crooked when she threw herself on Beni, and she adjusted it as she turned apologetic eyes on O'Connell.

"Gee, I'm really sorry for barging into your home like this. I'm just so shaken up over everything that's happened and I was worried about Beni. He was so valiant, you know."

"Yeah," said O'Connell, keeping a straight face. "He's real valiant, all right."

Beni decided to let them talk to each other and tried to sneak off, but O'Connell grabbed him and pushed him into a chair. "You don't want to be rude to our guest, do ya, Beni? Here, lady, why don't you take the other seat?"

She sat down in the one remaining chair and balled up her damp handkerchief, looking even more pathetic as she smiled up at O'Connell with her tear-stained face. She was the most pathetic woman Beni had ever met. "Oh, thank you so much. You're a good friend of Beni's, aren't you?"

"Sort of," said O'Connell. "I'm Rick O'Connell, by the way."

"I'm Constance," she said. "Constance Halloran."

"I, uh, met your husband once or twice. It's a damn—uh, _darn—_ shame what happened to him."

Constance clutched her handkerchief tighter. "It's a darn shame Ivan got away with it. I swore, ever since the day I buried my poor husband, that I would devote myself to the man who brought Ivan to justice."

"All that time you worked in his restaurant, you never thought about, you know—" O'Connell used his thumb and forefinger to aim a pretend gun at his head, "—taking care of Ivan yourself?"

"Of course I did," said Constance, dropping her voice to a near-whisper. "I used to dream about it all the time. But I'm afraid I'm a terrible coward."

Beni, growing bored with the conversation, cast a contemptuous look at Constance and muttered to himself in Hungarian about all the things he wished Ivan had done to her before he got shot.

She immediately jerked her head toward him, gazing at him with wide gray eyes. "Gee whiz! What language is that?"

"Hungarian," said Beni.

"Silly me. I knew you were from _somewhere_ foreign, but I never thought to ask."

"He speaks more than just Hungarian," said O'Connell. "How many languages is it, Beni? Six?"

"Seven," Beni corrected.

"Gee _whiz_ ," Constance repeated. "Seven languages! You really are a marvel, Beni. What about you, Mr. O'Connell? Do you speak any foreign languages?"

O'Connell shrugged. "A few words in Arabic."

Beni scoffed at this. More like a few _curses_ in Arabic. That was the full extent of O'Connell's linguistic capabilities.

"But you wouldn't want to hear any of it," O'Connell added, as if he had read Beni's mind. "So, uh, I heard the story about what happened to Double Ivan."

"The _true_ story," said Beni. "About how _I_ didn't do it."

"You shouldn't be ashamed that you shot Ivan, Beni," said Constance. "He was a terrible man who did terrible things. My poor husband was one unlucky soul in a long list of victims. I always prayed Ivan would get what was coming to him, but I never really believed he would until _you_ came along."

"O'Connell, help me," Beni whined, looking at him with helpless eyes. "Tell her I didn't do it!"

"How am _I_ supposed to know if you did it or not?" said O'Connell. "I wasn't there when it happened. Why don't you take her to see those other guys you were playing cards with?"

"There were two of them aside from Van Der Veen," said Beni. "But I don't know their names. I had never played with them before."

"Then go find Van Der Veen if it'll make you happy."

Beni hated it when O'Connell got an intelligent idea, since O'Connell wasn't _supposed_ to get intelligent ideas, and he rolled his eyes. "I was already planning to do that, of course."

"Of _course_ ," said O'Connell, the bastard.

"So you're leaving," said Constance. Her voice sounded small and pitiful. "Oh, Beni, you can't leave me. Ivan's partners might think _I_ killed him, knowing how much I hated the man. I don't know what I'll do if those dangerous men come after me."

Beni would be relieved if Double Ivan's partners came after Constance and finished her off. They would be doing him a huge favor. "You're not staying with me," he said, scowling at her. "O'Connell and I are going to find Van Der Veen—"

"Wait, who said anything about _me_ going?" said O'Connell.

"Of course you are going," said Beni. "You are much better with weapons than I am."

"Well I'm going too," said Constance.

"And what are _you_ going to do?" said Beni. "Cry until Van Der Veen admits that he did it?"

"No, but I can get you around the city," she said. "I have my husband's car with me. It's parked outside the apartment."

Beni took one look at O'Connell and knew that he was doomed. O'Connell didn't have a car and neither did Beni, which wasn't a problem under most circumstances, but they needed to find Van Der Veen as quickly as possible. Sure enough, O'Connell grinned at Constance and said, "That settles it, then. But you're waiting in the car while me and Beni go to this guy's apartment, all right? Van Der Veen, well… Van Der Veen has got some problems."

"What if he isn't home?" asked Constance.

"Then we'll find people who know him and track him down. Like his supplier of… goods, and any, uh, especially close friends he might have."

Beni sighed at O'Connell's ridiculous attempts to be a gentleman. Constance worked in Double Ivan's restaurant, for God's sake. O'Connell could have just told her they needed to find Van Der Veen's coke dealer, along with any whores he could have been fucking, and she probably wouldn't have been _that_ shocked.

"If we're taking the car, then I am not sitting next to her," said Beni.

"Of course you are!" said Constance. "I'm going to drive and you'll be in the passenger seat."

"There's no arguing with a lady, Beni," said O'Connell. "Now come on."

Beni didn't budge from his seat. "How do we know she can drive?"

"I learned back in the States," Constance replied. "My husband taught me, and I haven't been in a wreck yet. Though I can't tell you how many times I've longed to run Ivan over."

"Sounds like he would have deserved it," said O'Connell.

Constance's eyes welled up with tears. "You have no idea. He thought it was _funny_ that I had to work in his restaurant, trying to pay off Walter's debts. And that's not even the _worst_ of it."

"Oh, _God_ ," Beni groaned. "We'll be here for an hour listening to this."

"No, 'cause we're leaving now," said O'Connell. "So get out of that chair already."

Beni knew that if he didn't move soon, O'Connell would roughly grab him yet _again_ and add to the bruises he had already collected that day. Grumbling to himself in Hungarian, he got up and shuffled to the door, only to be ambushed by Constance and her pitiful, tear-filled eyes. She took him by the hand and refused to let go, even when Beni begged O'Connell to pull her away from him, and he had to put up with it the entire walk down to the car.

It was only five o'clock in the evening and the sun continued to sit in the cloudless sky, casting a waning light upon Cairo's streets. Walter Halloran's car, a dark blue model that had seen better days, looked out of place in a neighborhood where most people walked or rode bicycles.

"Do either of you know where this Van Der Veen man lives?" said Constance.

"I do," said O'Connell. "I'll tell you how to get there."

Beni sulkily got into the passenger's seat, while O'Connell took the backseat and Constance got behind the wheel. Beni still didn't trust her ability to drive, since she couldn't go for five minutes without bursting into tears, and it would be just his luck if she had a crying fit and crashed right into a building.

"You know, I never thought my rescuer would be anything like you," Constance told Beni as she started the ignition. "I always imagined he would be someone like Mr. O'Connell, but I really don't give a darn that you're nothing like him. You have my eternal devotion, Beni."

Beni thought he heard O'Connell laughing in the backseat.

"What have I done to deserve this?" he grumbled.


	3. A Dead End

"Oh, be careful. Won't you, Beni?" Constance pleaded, looking at him with big eyes. "You're the only person I have in this city."

Beni ignored her and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. He rarely had the opportunity to ride in an automobile, and it figured that his first car ride in months would be ruined by a woman like Constance. Women ruined everything sooner or later, and Constance represented everything he disliked most in the opposite sex. Why did Van Der Veen have to push the gun into _his_ hand before running out of the basement?

He had forgotten that the gun was still in his pocket and felt the cold weight of the barrel in his hand, remembering how fast Double Ivan crumpled upon the card table, leaking blood everywhere. He had seen men get shot so often in the Legion, it barely affected him anymore, but he hated the feel of Van Der Veen's gun in his pocket. A gun was such a risky weapon.

"You ready?" asked O'Connell.

Beni didn't have to ask if O'Connell had brought a gun on this spur-of-the-moment mission. O'Connell _always_ had a gun.

"As if I've got a choice," muttered Beni.

But he supposed there were benefits to this stupid visit. The sooner they found Van Der Veen, the sooner they could prove to both Constance _and_ the police that Beni had nothing to do with Double Ivan's murder. Beni didn't know if the police had him listed as a suspect or not, but he was bound to be in trouble as long as Van Der Veen was running loose in the city, hiding from anyone who might convict him.

Hans Van Der Veen lived in a miserable little building that made O'Connell's shabby home look respectable and Beni stayed close to O'Connell, ready to hide behind him if trouble started. He had a knife that he could use when the occasion called for it, along with Van Der Veen's gun, but hiding and running had always been his favorite methods of dealing with a problem. Neither method had failed him yet. He followed O'Connell up to the second floor of the building, darting nervous glances over his shoulder with every step he took, and watched O'Connell pound on Van Der Veen's door.

"How do you know where he lives, anyway?" asked Beni, eying O'Connell suspiciously.

"Ol' Hans has owed me money a couple of times," said O'Connell. He knocked on the door again and waited in silence.

"I think I hear something," said Beni. "He is inside, but he's ignoring us."

"It's Rick O'Connell!" O'Connell said after knocking a third time. "Open up!"

Beni could hear noise from inside the apartment, like somebody moaning, and started to become uneasy. "Maybe I should go back to the car," he suggested.

O'Connell ignored him and tried the doorknob, which turned easily in his hand, and pushed the door open with a loud creak. "Hans?" he called out. "You in here?"

A cat meowed in response.

"Hans?" O'Connell repeated. "It's me, O'Connell."

Another cat meowed.

"Come on." O'Connell grabbed Beni by the wrist and tugged him into the apartment, which consisted of a single cramped, stuffy room that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years. Six pairs of yellow-green eyes glinted at Beni from various corners of the room.

"I cannot believe he has six cats," Beni muttered. Van Der Veen was even more of an idiot than he thought.

"Well, he's not here," said O'Connell. "And he's gotten more cats since the last time I saw him."

Something hissed at Beni as he followed O'Connell out of the apartment and he aimed a kick at one of the cats, but he missed and slunk out the door, cursing to himself in Hungarian under his breath. Beni hated animals, especially when they were mangy and half-starved like Van Der Veen's cats. He stood by while O'Connell knocked on door after door, asking the neighbors if they had seen Van Der Veen, and he wasn't surprised when nobody knew his whereabouts. Van Der Veen obviously didn't come home after running out of Ivan's restaurant.

"Got any ideas on where to look next?" O'Connell asked as he and Beni headed back to the car.

"How should _I_ know?" said Beni. "He could be anywhere."

"I don't know who his dealer is, but I know where we can probably find out. We'll try the Golden Ankh."

Beni grimaced at the mention of the Golden Ankh, which was anything but golden. "I am not going in that bar."

"Why not?"

"That is none of your business."

Beni tried to get into the backseat when they reached Constance's car, but O'Connell pulled him out and shoved him towards the passenger's seat, leaving him with no choice but to sit next to Constance. She pulled him into a hug the moment he sat down and nearly suffocated him with her unrelenting grip, which was surprisingly strong for such a pathetic woman, and Beni whined at her until she let go and looked at him with her tearful grey eyes.

"Gosh, I'm so sorry," she said. "I don't know what came over me. It's been so long since I had anyone to care for and I just lose my head whenever I see you."

Her words made Beni's skin crawl. "Well stop it."

"I'll try, just for you. You know I'll do anything for the man who avenged my poor Walter."

With any other woman, he would have been coaxing her into bed by now, but Beni would rather kiss a camel than fuck _this_ irritating woman. It wouldn't even be fun to tell her to shut her mouth and leave him alone. She would just say, _Gee whiz!_ or some other American bullshit, and try to hug him again.

God. He _really_ did not deserve this.

Constance started up the car. "So you didn't find Van Der Veen, I'm guessing. Where do we go next?"

"The Golden Ankh," said O'Connell. "You know where that is?"

"Walter used to drink there sometimes," said Constance. She started blinking faster, probably fighting back more tears. "I know how to get there."

Beni used to drink at the Golden Ankh as well, before he pissed off too many people and had to avoid the place for his own safety. He hated the thought of staying behind with Constance, but he supposed he could handle it for a few minutes if it meant saving his own neck, and when they arrived at the bar he told O'Connell to go in by himself.

"You sure?" asked O'Connell. "Even though…" His eyes flicked over to Constance, who had taken a paper fan out of her handbag to cool herself.

"It is better than getting shot," said Beni.

Constance let out a little gasp and looked at him with worried eyes. "Oh, gosh, I don't want you getting shot. Who would want to shoot you?"

"More people than you can believe," Beni said, scowling at her. "I'm going to wait in the backseat."

"Suit yourself," said O'Connell.

Beni moved to the back of the car and laid down on the wide seat, sprawling himself out as much as he could in the limited space. He pulled his fez down over his eyes and listened to O'Connell's heavy footsteps tramp away.

"Beni?"

"What do you want?" Beni groaned.

"How long did you live in Hungary?" Constance asked.

"Much longer than I wanted to."

"What was it like?"

"Oh, it was _so_ wonderful living in a slum with my prostitute mother, getting my ribs kicked in by the neighborhood boys."

He couldn't see her face, since his fez still covered his eyes, but he was pretty sure she had gone teary-eyed yet again. "How sad," said Constance. "No wonder you're the way you are. You're like a little lost puppy that I want to take home and feed, and bathe, and shelter from the streets."

Getting shot didn't sound so terrible anymore.

"I am not a good man," said Beni. "In fact, I am probably the worst man you will ever meet."

"I'm sure you're an angel compared to Ivan. Ivan was the worst darn man in all of Cairo."

"Oh, no. I have done some terrible, terrible things. Would you like to know what I did to O'Connell three years ago?"

"It couldn't have been _that_ bad."

Beni told her about the Legion's march to Hamunaptra and the attack that wiped out his garrison, sparing none of the details as he described how he ran from the battle and left O'Connell to fend for himself. "And do you know how we became friends again? I helped O'Connell steal a rug from this rich family that was always donating to charities. I am a very wicked man."

"Oh, Beni, that's nothing. Ivan has done much worse."

"I haven't told you the rest. I swear to you I am as bad as Ivan." Beni wasn't in the habit of admitting his wrongdoings outside of a confession booth, but he was willing to do _anything_ to get rid of Constance. "Back in Budapest, I used to rob churches. That's how I got sent to the Legion. You would not believe the riches they keep in those places, and there's usually nobody but alter boys to guard the stuff."

"I'm sorry you had to steal," said Constance. "But everyone _does_ have to eat somehow."

"You have got to be kidding me," Beni muttered under his breath. "You think it is perfectly all right, then, to rob a church? I did not just steal from my neighbors in order to eat. I have stolen from _God himself_."

That ought to scare her off.

"And I wish you hadn't done it, but I'm sure robbing a church is _ten_ times more forgivable than murdering a woman's husband in cold blood. I know you didn't steal because you _wanted to_ , did you? You stole because you needed to eat, and have shelter for the night, and protect yourself from the cold."

"I was a very, very desperate man," Beni admitted. He gave up on trying to rest and sat up, pushing his fez back into its former spot. "My whole life, I have had nothing. I have _always_ had nothing. Back in Budapest, I saw half-starved dogs roaming the streets that were better off than I was."

Constance turned around in her seat to look at him, pity written all over her face. "I'm so sorry," she said softly. "It sounds like you've lived a hard life."

Beni wasn't used to getting people's sympathy. People either ignored his troubles or kicked him around, simply because they could, and even O'Connell wasn't very good at sympathizing with him. "The hardest," he agreed, looking at Constance with big, pathetic eyes. "It is a cruel world we live in."

" _I_ would never be cruel to you. You gave Ivan what he deserved."

Beni suddenly remembered that he was supposed to convince Constance that he was a terrible person, not make her even _more_ fond of him, and he wanted to kick himself for his carelessness. One moment of sympathy and she almost had him, but he would soon remedy _that_. He was about to tell her more of his past sins, when O'Connell returned and slid into the empty space beside Beni.

"No luck," he said. "Either nobody knows anything, or they don't want to talk."

"That's a shame," said Constance. "What are you going to do now?"

"Keep looking around, I guess," said O'Connell. "Ol' Hans has gotta be around here somewhere."

"I have an idea," Beni spoke up.

An idea that would make Constance see him for what he truly was, if everything went according to plan.

"What is it?" asked O'Connell.

"Gigi," said Beni. He leaned back in his seat and smirked. "I will ask Gigi if she can help us."


	4. An Extravagant Welcome

"Who's Gigi?" asked Constance.

She hadn't started the car yet and was turned around in her seat, facing Beni and O'Connell.

"Gigi is a bad, bad woman," Beni said, taking pleasure in the words. "She used to be a whore in New Orleans. Now she lives in Cairo, making money off of stolen goods. But that is not her only crime. She is wanted by the police in New Orleans, so she came to Cairo to escape them, but of course the Cairo police would love to have her as well. I think there might even be a price on her head in America."

Constance's eyes widened. "What did she do?"

"I don't know for sure, but rumors say it is murder. It probably _is_ murder. That is the type of person Gigi is."

"Yeah, she's wanted to kill _you_ a couple of times," O'Connell muttered.

"Gee whiz," said Constance. "Murder! She must have had a darn good reason to do something so desperate. Who do you think she might have killed?"

"It happened back in New Orleans," said Beni, enjoying himself more and more with every word. He leaned closer to Constance and dropped his voice to a whisper. "They say she murdered her pimp."

"Along with a couple of johns," added O'Connell. "So they say."

"They _had_ to have deserved it," Constance decided. "Just like Ivan deserved it."

"Oh, no. It is not always so simple as that," Beni told her sorrowfully. "What if that poor pimp and those poor, unsuspecting johns were completely innocent? Maybe Gigi is the one who deserves to get punished, for murdering them with her own hands in cold, cold blood. There is no proof, of course, but it is very possible. That is the kind of woman I associate with."

"The only kind who will have you, you mean," said O'Connell.

Beni ignored him. "Gigi might know where to find Van Der Veen, so we're going to go visit her in her house where she has committed many, many crimes. Maybe even more murders. We will have to be _very_ careful."

Constance looked thoughtful rather than frightened. "Oh, Beni. Do you always see the worst in everyone? First you paint an incredibly black portrait of yourself, and now this Gigi woman. She can't possibly be _that_ bad."

"She is," Beni insisted. "And so am I."

"Now you're just being modest. It's almost as if you _want_ me to think you're terrible."

"Yeah, Beni," said O'Connell. "What are you trying to prove here?"

"Let's go to Gigi's already," said Beni, scowling at the interior of the car. "She is probably still home, since she usually doesn't go out until late at night. Nighttime is the perfect time for crimes to happen, you know."

Constance started up the car and asked for directions, which Beni willingly gave her as an excuse to change the subject. She hadn't burst into tears in at least ten minutes, which had to be a record, and Beni thought he could finally get some peace and quiet when she opened her mouth yet again. "How does Gigi know this Van Der Veen fellow?"

"Sometimes he sells stolen goods for her," said Beni. "It is probably where he gets his coke money."

"He sounds like a sad man. I know Ivan peddled narcotics in and out of the city. People in his restaurant would whisper about it."

"Yes, it is a sad, dirty business," Beni pretended to agree. "Van Der Veen and Gigi are both sad, dirty people. I am afraid you will not like either of them very much, but I hope you are at least polite to Gigi. As terrible as she is, she and I are _very_ good friends."

O'Connell made a noise that sounded suspiciously like disguised laughter. Beni muttered something rude in Hungarian and continued to give Constance directions to Gigi's house.

Gigi lived near a marketplace, which gave her the perfect opportunity to steal on a regular basis, and she pestered Beni less frequently than all the other crooks who said he owed them something. Mainly because she preferred to pick his pocket instead, but Beni always retaliated by returning the favor, and he supposed that of all the (admittedly few) women in Cairo he had screwed, she definitely wasn't the worst.

They reached the marketplace and turned down a side street, where a decent set of apartment buildings stood in a row, and Beni told Constance to stop in front of the first one.

"You're coming in this time," he told her. "I want you to meet Gigi."

"If she's a friend of yours, then I would love to," she said earnestly. "You're sure she won't mind unexpected guests?"

"Of course not," said Beni. "I sneak in here all the time."

Nighttime had begun to set in, though it was still early, and Constance tried to hold Beni's hand as he led the way to Gigi's apartment, but he slapped her away and walked faster until he reached Gigi's door. O'Connell looked skeptical about the whole thing, but didn't say anything as Beni knocked on the door and waited for a response.

It wasn't long until the door flew open and a woman exclaimed, " _Mon Dieu!_ Beni, you bastard, what are _you_ doing here?"

Gigi Lebeau was just as flamboyant as her name. She had cherry-red hair, which she wore in short, tight curls, and drenched herself in enough perfume to gag someone. Beni was used to it, though her perfume lingered on his clothes for days on end, which was a pain in the ass when he only had one shirt.

"I have come to see my favorite Frenchwoman, of course," Beni said with a smirk. "You always have the best wine."

Gigi pouted at him, looking like an over-dressed doll in a bright, flashy outfit that was better suited to a circus performer. "I do not see you for days on end, and then you come out of nowhere with guests," she said, shifting her gaze to O'Connell and Constance. " _Guests_ , Beni! What am I supposed to do with them?"

"They are not guests," said Beni. "We're looking for Hans Van Der Veen."

"Ha. You won't be finding him _here_."

"Well we've gotta find him as soon as possible," said O'Connell. "He shot Double Ivan a few hours ago."

" _Merde!_ " Gigi exclaimed. She immediately ushered Beni, O'Connell, and Constance into her apartment, demanding that they give her all the details, and rushed off to fetch a bottle of wine.

Gigi's apartment was an explosion of color, fabric, and tourist bric-a-brac, most of which had been stolen. Bright curtains and rugs covered the walls and ceiling, while every corner was filled with the type of furniture, vases, and statues that appealed to Europeans and Americans who wanted some Eastern flair in their homes, though Gigi didn't know when to stop and made her apartment look more like a curiosity shop than a home. Constance had shown no signs of displeasure so far, much to Beni's disappointment, and admired a garish tapestry that hung on the wall.

"Where did she get all this from?" she asked with wide-eyed awe.

"She stole all of it, of course," Beni answered smugly. "I _told_ you she steals things—and she enjoys it, too."

"I'm sure no one really _enjoys_ stealing, Beni. Ivan stole because he was terribly greedy, but I don't think he got any real pleasure out of it."

"Some people steal 'cause they like the thrill, believe it or not," said O'Connell.

"Oh, Gigi definitely gets a thrill," said Beni.

Constance opened her mouth to reply when Gigi returned, bringing a cloud of perfume with her. She carried a tray laden with a bottle and four wineglasses, a sure sign that she wasn't about to rip Beni's head off anytime soon, and ushered everybody into seats on her extravagant furniture.

Beni sipped from the wineglass Gigi handed him, taking care to _savor_ it, the way she always told him to. The way Gigi put it, he had a tendency to guzzle her good wine like it was common beer. Beni wasn't sure what guzzle meant, but he understood her tone perfectly well when she told him that. It would annoy him if he didn't enjoy her wine so much.

"Where is Van Der Veen?" he asked Gigi.

She pouted at him again. Her lips were even redder than her hair. "I already told you, you won't find him here. Why do you want to see Van Der Veen? He's probably passed out in the Golden Ankh."

"We tried there already."

"Then try the Oasis. On second thought, no." Gigi pursed her garish lips. "I heard he's been banned from the Oasis. But who cares? The less I see of that man, the better, unless he's got gold in his pockets." She switched to French, which she and Beni both spoke fluently, and gestured toward Constance with her wineglass. _"But who is this woman? Is she with O'Connell? Doesn't seem like his type, but you never know with O'Connell."_

" _She is Constance Halloran_ ," Beni replied in the same language. " _Walter Halloran's widow. She says Double Ivan is the one who killed her husband."_

" _My God! I almost forgot that Ivan is dead!_ " cried Gigi, putting a hand to her heart. " _But what is Walter Halloran's widow doing here?_ "

" _She is a crazy woman. She thinks I'm the one who shot Ivan and gave her husband's killer what he deserved, so now she won't leave me alone."_

"Mind speaking English so the rest of us can understand?" O'Connell spoke up. He looked uncomfortable in Gigi's richly furnished apartment and tried to stretch his legs, but he ran the risk of knocking into the table that sat a mere foot away.

"How did Double Ivan die?" Gigi asked, switching back to English.

"He was playing cards in the basement of his restaurant," Constance spoke up. "And then Beni here pulled out a gun and finished him off, just like that!" She had insisted on sitting next to Beni on an ornamental divan and took him by the arm, rapidly blinking away her tears. "I owe him so much."

"She owes me nothing," said Beni, trying to push Constance away. "It was all a misunderstanding."

"Of course," said Gigi, laughing. "We both know you are too much of a coward to shoot anyone."

"I am not a coward," Beni whined. "I am just very good at running."

O'Connell sighed and turned to Gigi. "Do you have any idea where Van Der Veen might be? He's mixed up in this whole mess. We've gotta find him and bring him to the cops."

"I might know where he has gone," said Gigi. She poured herself more wine and smirked at Beni. " _But why should I help you?_ " she asked him in French.

" _Oh, come on, Gigi,"_ said Beni. _"How can you ask me that when we're such good, good friends?"_

" _A good friend doesn't take my best antique vase. Don't try to deny it, Beni. I know it was you!"_

Beni gasped. _"That is a serious accusation, my dear. Lots of people could have taken that vase! If it was me, I would be considerably richer, wouldn't I?"_

" _It's hard to say, knowing you. You're the kind of man to dress yourself in rags on purpose, just to beg for a free meal!"_

"English, remember?" said O'Connell, looking bored and a little annoyed. "And can we stay on topic here? Where's Van Der Veen?"

"I don't know where to find him _exactly_ ," said Gigi, looking sweetly at O'Connell. "But if he is hiding from the police, then he probably went to Nadir's house. Nadir has a whore named Ilsa that Van Der Veen is very fond of."

Beni was familiar with Nadir's house, being a customer himself, though he had never seen Van Der Veen on his nighttime visits. "You are sure that Van Der Veen would hide there?" he asked Gigi.

"Very sure," she replied. "Only a whore would let him into her room for the night."

"That settles it, then," said O'Connell, rising from his seat. "We'll try Nadir's."

Beni turned to Constance, who still insisted on clinging to his arm like a needy child, and made one more attempt to shock her.

"Hey, Constance. Have I mentioned that I also sleep with whores?"


	5. A House of Ill Repute

"You know, Beni, I think I've learned a lot about you in a few short hours," Constance said as she pulled up in front of Nadir's house.

Beni didn't know how much longer he could stand being in her company and listening to her pathetic voice. O'Connell had forced him into the passenger seat again, ignoring his pleas to sit in the back, and Constance kept asking questions about how he met Gigi and what he did for a living and how often he visited Nadir's house. Nothing he said, no matter how bad or how shocking, could get her to shut her mouth.

No wonder her name was Constance. She was a constant pain in the ass.

Beni let out a derisive little laugh. "What are you talking about? You know nothing about me."

"Oh no, I _have_ learned plenty about you, and I've decided what I'm going to do about you, Beni."

"Are you going to leave me alone forever?" he asked hopefully.

"No, of course not. I'm going to reform you!"

O'Connell started chuckling in the backseat, while Beni frowned at Constance and tried to remember if he had ever heard that strange word _reform_ before. "What does that mean?"

"You're not a lost cause like Ivan was," she said, taking him by the hand. "Ivan was so wicked, but you're just pitiful and misguided, and all you need is someone who can point you in the right direction." Tears welled up in her eyes and she squeezed Beni's hand, hard enough to hurt. "I don't want you to turn out like Ivan, Beni. You can be better than that!"

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Beni groaned. He wrenched his hand out of Constance's grip and glared at her. "I am a bad man. I don't want your help."

"But you don't _have_ to be a bad man. Don't you see?"

"I want out of this car," said Beni. "O'Connell and I are going to find the whore Gigi told us about, and you are not coming with us."

"Just be careful, won't you?" Constance pleaded. "I don't trust this sort of place."

"Relax, lady," said O'Connell. "We're just gonna see if Van Der Veen is here, and then we'll scram, all right?"

"Hurry back, then."

Constance grabbed Beni by the arm and kissed him on the cheek, causing him to swear at her in disgust, and he scrambled out of the car so fast that he tripped and fell on the ground, where he continued to swear at Constance in three different languages.

O'Connell got out of the car and sighed, then grabbed Beni so he could haul him to his feet. "Come on."

"I cannot believe that woman kissed me," Beni whined, wiping at his cheek with the sleeve of his jacket. "Can't we push her into the Nile and blame it on Ivan's friends?"

"No one is getting pushed in the Nile," said O'Connell. "Let's get this visit over with so I can go home, all right?"

Beni didn't understand why O'Connell didn't go home ages ago, since this whole problem had nothing to do with _him_. If their places were reversed, Beni would never help O'Connell in a million years, but he supposed O'Connell was simply too stupid to realize he was getting a bad deal. They left Constance in the car and walked into Nadir's house, which was always filled with cigarette smoke, and asked Nadir himself where the prostitute named Ilsa could be found.

"Ah, yes. Ilsa," said Nadir, giving them a grin that revealed several missing teeth. "She must be popular if both of you want her."

"Just tell us where her room is, all right?" said O'Connell.

"Are you taking turns with her or are you—"

"Come on, Nadir," Beni broke in pleadingly. "We are very impatient."

" _Oh_ , I see." Nadir winked and told them Ilsa's room number, along with his policy that two customers with a single whore would not give them a discount.

Like Beni would ever share a whore with O'Connell. What kind of sick bastard did Nadir take him for?

Beni led the way, being more familiar with the brothel than O'Connell was, and hesitated when he reached Ilsa's room. "So now what do we do?" he asked, frowning at the door.

"What do you mean?" asked O'Connell.

"Do we just open the door? She might have some ugly prick in there with his pants down."

"We'll knock, obviously," said O'Connell. "I'll do it."

Beni moved aside and let O'Connell pound on the door, hoping they didn't find Van Der Veen in a compromising position—though he supposed even _that_ might be better than getting kissed by Constance. He could still feel the imprint of her lips on his face and rubbed at his cheek again. The memory of it made his skin crawl.

The man who answered the door was not Hans Van Der Veen, though Beni recognized him immediately. He was well-dressed, though his tie was undone and his clothes were rumpled, and he reeked of alcohol, glaring at Beni and O'Connell with a reddened face.

"Really, now," he grumbled in an English accent. "Can't a man enjoy himself in this bloody town anymore?"

O'Connell stared at him. "Who the hell are you?"

"He is one of the men who was playing cards with Double Ivan today," said Beni. "He is an idiot."

"Say, I recognize you," said the Englishman, taking a closer look at Beni. "You're the sorry little fellow who cheated and started that whole mess at Ivan's!"

"You are confusing me with somebody else," Beni said with a nervous laugh. "I would never cheat!"

"Why, I know for a fact that—"

"What's your name, pal?" said O'Connell, interrupting the Englishman.

"Uh, Rupert," he said nervously. "Rupert Lexington-Howe. The third."

"Your _real_ name."

"Very well. It's Jonathan. But who the bloody hell are _you_? I've already met your weaselly little friend here, but I don't—"

Jonathan was cut off when a woman appeared in the doorway, rather disheveled with her smudged makeup and mussed brown hair. She held an empty bottle in her slender hand and eyed up O'Connell with a flicker of interest in her eyes, failing to take notice of Beni.

"Get out," she told Jonathan, nudging him with the bottle. "You're holding up my customers."

"I'm not a customer," said O'Connell.

"O'Connell here does not care for women," Beni said with a snicker. "But _I_ do."

The prostitute, presumably Ilsa, pretended not to hear Beni and nudged Jonathan again. "Out."

"All right, all right," Jonathan grumbled. He walked unsteadily out into the hall and headed in the direction of the staircase, but O'Connell grabbed him by the shoulder before he could disappear.

"Hey, wait. Do you happen to know where Van Der Veen might be?"

"Van Der Veen," Jonathan repeated, slurring the words a bit. "No, no. Of course not. I don't even _know_ a fellow by that name. That's a funny Dutch sort of name, isn't it?"

"You know the guy," said O'Connell, putting more pressure on Jonathan's shoulder. "Can you tell me where he is?"

"Well, perhaps. But really, there's all sorts of ways to define the word 'know.' I don't think _your_ definition of 'know' would quite match up with my own personal—"

"Cut the bullshit. Where is he?"

"Who, Van Der Veen? Haven't seen him in hours, I swear on my grandmother's soul! Would you mind letting me go?"

"Van Der Veen just left about an hour ago," said Ilsa, leaning against the door frame with her eyes fixed on O'Connell. "Right before the drunken idiot showed up. Why don't you come inside so we can talk?"

Beni edged closer to Ilsa, enjoying the view that her low-cut dress provided, and figured it was compensation for the horrors he had to endure from Constance. "Of course we will come inside and talk with you," he said. "Won't we, O'Connell?"

O'Connell rolled his eyes and agreed.


	6. A Lady of the Night

"Would you like a drink?" Ilsa offered O'Connell, holding out a bottle of gin with a tempting smile on her lips. "I'll even let you drink for free."

Beni couldn't believe it when O'Connell shook his head and stood in the middle of the cramped bedroom, his arms crossed over his chest. "I'm not here to drink," he told Ilsa. "I'm here for answers."

"But _I_ would like to have a drink," said Beni, resting a hand upon Ilsa's arm. "I am so very, very thirsty. I have not had a single drink all day."

Ilsa slapped Beni's hand away and turned her attention back to O'Connell, who continued to stand there like he was made of stone, and gave him a coquettish smirk with her red-painted mouth. Her name sounded German, but she looked like she had some Arabic blood. It annoyed Beni that this half-breed whore would ignore him in favor of O'Connell, especially when Beni was the one who was willing to do business with her. He probably wouldn't pay her, of course, but who cared? These prostitutes weren't the only ones in Cairo who had to eat every day.

"Come on, honey, have a drink," said Ilsa, pushing the bottle into O'Connell's hand. "It'll make your little interrogation go faster so we can get to more important things." She winked and grabbed a packet of cigarettes off of her dresser, then proceeded to light one with a match while Beni watched her hungrily. He hadn't had a cigarette in ages.

O'Connell handed the bottle to Beni and sighed. "Where's Van Der Veen?"

Ilsa took a drag on her cigarette and blew smoke right into Beni's face, making him cough a bit. "How should I know? I haven't seen him since he left."

"Did he tell you where he's headed?"

"Of course not. He screwed me, handed over his money, and went out the door without saying ten words to me. Good riddance, too."

"Great," O'Connell said with false cheerfulness. "Another dead end."

Ilsa sat down on the end of her bed, making the rickety mattress springs creak under her weight, and crossed one leg over the other so that her dress rode up her thighs. She let her cigarette dangle between her fingers and heaved an impatient little sigh, staring up at O'Connell. "Enough about Van Der Veen," she said. "He's an idiot, and I'm sick and tired of idiots tonight."

Beni took a swig from the bottle O'Connell handed him, then wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and grinned at Ilsa. She wasn't the only one who was tired of idiots that night.

"Have you ever been with a Hungarian, my dear?" he asked in his most charming tone.

Ilsa's flirtatious pouting turned into a frown. "Is that where your funny accent is from? I thought you were Romanian or something, like Dracula."

"Who is Dracula?"

"He's a character in a book, silly."

Beni snickered at her. "I didn't know whores could read."

"Says the guy who can barely write his name," muttered O'Connell.

"I was not lucky enough to get raised in a nice orphanage like _you_ were," Beni grumbled. He turned back to Ilsa with sad eyes. "I have been miserable my whole life because I never learned how to read. Nobody has ever been willing to teach me."

"Can't blame them," said Ilsa. "I'd shoot myself if I had to listen to your whiny voice all the time."

"My voice is not whiny," said Beni, scowling at her.

"What, are you deaf or something?"

"Of course I am not deaf. How else could I be talking to you?"

Ilsa sighed again and continued to smoke her cigarette, uncrossing her legs and arranging them in a different position. She wasn't particularly beautiful with her messy brown hair and her bored, dark blue eyes, but she was an available woman and Beni longed for a distraction. He took another swig from the gin bottle and wondered if he should pull out some money, just to let her know that he was a willing customer, even if he intended on keeping the payment out of her hands.

"You sure you don't know where Van Der Veen is?" said O'Connell, looking sternly down at Ilsa.

"Don't you think I would have told you if I did?"

"What about that Jonathan guy? Do you think he knows anything?"

"Who's Jonathan?"

"You know, the guy who was in your room when we arrived."

"Oh, _him_." Ilsa laughed as she flicked ash off the end of her cigarette, getting it all over the dusty floorboards. "He tells me his name is Rupert Something. I figured he was probably lying."

"Do you think he knows anything?" O'Connell repeated.

"Probably. I know Van Der Veen owes him money."

Beni rolled his eyes. "Van Der Veen owes a lot of people money."

"Yes, but he owes that Jonathan-Rupert fellow a _lot_ of money. The dumb Brit wouldn't stop talking about it." Ilsa put out her cigarette and tossed it onto the floor. "But haven't I said I'm tired of talking about idiots? Why don't we do something a little more fun?"

"I thought you would never ask," Beni said with a smirk.

"I wasn't talking to _you_ , you little rat. I was talking to your nice American friend."

"We really need to be going," said O'Connell. "Come on, Beni." He grabbed Beni by the arm and dragged him roughly out of the room, causing Beni to drop his gin bottle on the floor.

"Look what you have done," Beni whined. "Now I don't even have alcohol to take my mind off my problems."

"Get another bottle then. We're going home."

"But what about Van Der Veen?"

"We'll find him tomorrow. Either that or the cops will."

"And what about _me_?"

O'Connell stopped walking and stared at Beni. "What _about_ you?"

"Constance knows where I live. I have got no place to go!"

"She's not gonna follow you home at night. She's got her own place to go to."

That was true enough, but Constance wasn't like other women who had their own places to return to at night. Constance was a crazy woman who would continue to follow Beni around Cairo, unless he left the city, found some way to disappear, or—

"I have got an idea," Beni announced, amazed that such a brilliant plan had taken so long to enter his head. He had obviously spent too much time with O'Connell that evening.

"An idea about what?" asked O'Connell.

"I know how to escape Constance. She will never come looking for me if I stay here in Nadir's house."

"Stay with who, exactly? You think Ilsa will welcome you with open arms?"

"I don't need Ilsa. Go back to the car and tell Constance I won't be coming, will you?"

"You really want me to explain this to her, Beni?"

"You don't have to explain anything. Just tell her to go home without me."

O'Connell didn't move. "She's not gonna be happy about this."

"Since when have I cared about that woman's happiness? She is a pain in the ass."

"She's really not that bad, ya know, and she's pretty much the only woman who's willing to put up with you for the long term. You might wanna give her a chance."

"Only if she is the last woman on earth. And I would have to be extremely drunk."

"Suit yourself, buddy." O'Connell clapped Beni on the shoulder and strode down the stairs, leaving Beni to smirk to himself and seek out a familiar door. He knocked once and then waited, hoping that some idiot hadn't taken his rightful place.

The woman who answered the door wore makeup similar to Ilsa's, though her eyes were outlined with kohl that gave her European features an exotic look. Her mass of thick, dark hair had been piled on top of her head to keep it out of the way and she looked pretty when she smiled, though she was frowning as soon as she opened the door and saw Beni's face.

" _You_ ," she said through gritted teeth. "Have you come to give me my money?"

"Your money?" said Beni, laughing. "What would I be doing with _your_ money, Angeline? I have got money of my own."

"I'm talking about the money you've owed for a week now."

"Have you forgotten already? I paid you days ago."

"Nadir knows a lot of rough characters," said Angeline. "All I have to do is tell him you're abusing me and next thing you know, you've got a broken arm and a couple of smashed ribs."

A whimper escaped Beni's throat. "You wouldn't do such a cruel thing to me."

"Oh, I think I would, Beni. Unless you're willing to pay up."

"I will pay you tonight. Just let me inside already."

Angeline looked him over, still wearing a frown on her face, then sighed and moved out of the way so he could hurry into her room. Out of all the women Beni knew, Angeline was the most reliable, and she was the only one who couldn't refuse him anything, just as long as he gave her the money she was constantly demanding. Beni headed straight for Angeline's dresser and started rummaging through the drawers, looking for alcohol or cigarettes or anything that could take the edge off his horrible day, while Angeline stood by and pretended to be annoyed with him.

"You're the biggest moocher I've ever met," she said.

Beni cried out in triumph as he fished out a pack of cigarettes. "I know I am. Now shut up and get me a match."


	7. An Interruption

"Get out, Beni."

"Why should I? I am your customer."

"You can't spend the night."

Beni ignored Angeline and buried his face into the moth-eaten fabric that served as a pillow, ready to catch some much-needed sleep after his terrible ordeal with Constance. Angeline sat on the end of the bed, still fully clothed in a faded dress that would have been suited for a tired housewife, if it wasn't for the plunging neckline, and smoked one of the cigarettes that Beni had snatched from her dresser drawer.

She put the cigarette aside and reached over to poke Beni, digging her sharp fingernails into his shoulder. "You have to pay extra if you want to stay 'til morning."

Beni swatted her hand away and laughed. "Pay extra? I haven't even fucked you yet."

"Then come over here and do it."

"I am trying to sleep."

"In a brothel? You want to sleep somewhere, go find a hotel."

Beni sighed loudly and rolled onto his back so he could glare at Angeline. "You don't understand what a difficult day I've had. I deserve a little rest after all of my suffering."

"You don't know what suffering really is, Beni. You never have."

"Oh, like _you_ have such a hard life. So what if you have to roll on your back for meals and a roof over your head? Big deal. You probably enjoy it, you—"

Angeline pulled the pillow out from under Beni's head and whacked him with it, making him cry out in surprise.

"What was _that_ for?" he demanded.

"For talking about something you'll never understand," said Angeline, a hard look in her eyes. "Now get out of my bed if you're not going to use it."

"I _am_ using it. I already told you, I'm trying to sleep!"

"Sleeping doesn't count."

"Give me back that pillow."

Angeline hugged the pillow to her chest and shook her head, still wearing that hard expression in her eyes that did nothing to ease Beni's annoyance. Her whore mother must have been an idiot to give her a name like Angeline. What the hell was so angelic about a whore? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"I'll give you something better," she said, tossing the pillow onto the floor. "But first I want my money."

"What money?"

"The money we talked about earlier."

"I have no idea what you're—"

_Knock knock knock._

Beni sat up in bed and stared at the door, his eyes wide with panic. "Oh, no. Don't answer that."

"Why not?" said Angeline. "Can't be somebody worse than you, can it?"

"Much worse," said Beni, glancing around the shabby room. He didn't think he could make it out the window in time, but he could probably hide under the bed. "There is a crazy woman who won't leave me alone. She has sworn her _undying devotion_ to me."

"She _must_ be nuts," scoffed Angeline.

_Knock knock._

"Don't answer it," Beni pleaded.

Angeline smirked at him and opened the door, while Beni scurried under the bed and tried not to cough from all the dust balls that coated the floorboards. Didn't these whores bother to clean their rooms once in a while? He couldn't see what was happening from his position under the bed, but he didn't need a view when a familiar, overly pathetic voice reached his ears and asked the one question he had been dreading.

"Hi. Have you seen a man named Beni?"

"What do you want with him?" asked Angeline. Her voice betrayed her surprise that a respectable looking woman, obviously not a prostitute, would inquire after Beni without sounding malicious. Beni glared at her high-heeled shoes.

"Is he here?" Constance asked eagerly.

"Maybe. Depends on what you want with him."

Surely Angeline would protect him. In spite of her constant demands for money and her contemptuous attitude, Angeline always gave in where Beni was concerned. She was physically _incapable_ of turning him away.

"Let me handle this, Constance." A new voice entered the conversation, a voice that told Beni he was doomed. O'Connell strode into the room, his boots thumping heavily against the floorboards, and Beni made himself as small as he possibly could beneath the bed.

"I don't see Beni," Constance said anxiously.

"Oh, he's here," said O'Connell. "You just have to know where to look."

Beni choked as a dust ball went up his mouth.

"Gotcha," said O'Connell. He moved surprisingly fast for such a big idiot, which never failed to astonish Beni, and it took no effort for him to pull Beni out from under the bed and slam him against a wall, preventing his escape. "What were you doin' down there, Beni? Playing hide-and-seek?"

"You're hurting me!" Beni whimpered.

"Oh, let him go, will you?" said Constance, watching them with her big, tearful eyes. "He hasn't done any harm."

"You promised you would tell that woman to leave without me," said Beni, glaring at O'Connell.

"It wasn't that easy," O'Connell muttered. "I'm sorry, all right?"

"If you are so sorry, then let me go. My back is killing me."

Angeline stood near the bed, her usual attitude replaced with mild bewilderment, and her mouth dropped open as O'Connell released Beni and Constance captured him in an embrace that made Beni prefer O'Connell's rough treatment. At least O'Connell never hugged him. Beni looked at Angeline with pleading eyes, hoping she would take pity on him and drag Constance away, or tell O'Connell to throw her out the window, or something equally useful, but Angeline walked over to the open doorway and pointed towards the hall.

"Out," she said. "All of you."

"Come on, Beni," said Constance, taking him by the arm. "Let's get out of this horrible place."

"Angeline, you're supposed to save me," Beni whined.

She smiled and pushed the door open wider. "I don't owe you anything, Beni."

"You heard the lady," said O'Connell, giving Beni a nudge in his already sore back. "Let's go already."

Once again Beni was forced to walk for an uncomfortably long period of time with Constance clinging to his body, clutching his arm like she was afraid he would vanish into thin air, while O'Connell kept an eye on him and promised to give him more bruises if he chose not to behave. Not in those words exactly, but his body language spoke volumes.

"How did you find me?" Beni demanded as they passed Nadir's ugly face and headed for the brothel's front door.

"She wouldn't leave until I told her where you were," said O'Connell.

"And he wouldn't let me go alone, so he followed me into the house," Constance added. "You're lucky you've got such a caring friend, Beni."

"Oh, yes," said Beni. "I am the luckiest man alive."

"I had to knock on several doors until I found you," said Constance. "And gosh, it was awful! Ivan used to support these kinds of places, you know, and one of his partners even _owned_ one until it got shut down. All those poor women, trapped in that house day in and day out."

Beni laughed openly as they reached the car. "Those women are not to be pitied. They are sluts."

"How can you say that, Beni? A lot of them don't have much choice and it's awfully sad."

"That is not sad. The world needs whores just as much as it needs anything else."

"You only say that because you're ignorant," said Constance, patting Beni's arm sympathetically. "Once we get home I'm going to start reforming you and _then_ you'll see."

Beni shrank away from her touch. "What is this _we_? You are not coming home with me."

"Of course not. I'm taking you to _my_ house!"

"O'Connell," said Beni, looking up at him with big eyes. "You can't let her do this. I'm your dearest friend!"

"Get in the car, Beni." O'Connell opened the passenger door and shoved Beni inside, sealing his doom, and took his usual seat in the back.

"Gee whiz," said Constance, throwing her arms around Beni's neck. "This is going to be the best night I've had in years!"


	8. An Opportunity

"Are you hungry, Beni?" Constance asked.

This question threw Beni completely off-guard. Constance hadn't spoken a word in the last several minutes as she drove to O'Connell's apartment, probably lost in her own stupid thoughts about her poor, poor, departed husband, and Beni couldn't help staring at her when she finally broke the silence. Despite the fact that she had done nothing but fuss over him since the moment they met, he was still taken aback that somebody would bother to ask such a question.

"Of course I am hungry," Beni replied, slipping automatically into a pitiful whine. "I am _always hungry_."

"I'm not surprised," said Constance, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "You're so darn thin!"

"I would not be so thin if people would feed me more."

"Lucky for you, I'm one heck of a cook. That's what happens when you work in a restaurant all day long."

Beni recognized the tone in Constance's voice and knew she would start crying soon if he didn't change the subject. "How close are we to O'Connell's place?" he asked.

"We're almost there," O'Connell spoke up from the backseat. "And no, Beni, I'm not taking you with me."

"You would turn your back on me in my time of need?" said Beni. "After all the times I have helped you over the years?"

O'Connell snorted at this. "Name one time you helped me."

"Have you forgotten the time we—"

"And helping me steal something doesn't count."

Beni shut his mouth, completely at a loss. He recognized the street they were on and knew they would reach O'Connell's apartment in five minutes or less. Thanks to O'Connell's heartlessness, Beni would soon be stranded all alone with Constance in her old blue car, which he would dearly love to steal, now that he thought of it. He had never learned how to drive, but if O'Connell could operate a car than _anyone_ could do it.

"What would you like for dinner, Beni?" asked Constance, as if their conversation hadn't gone astray.

"I am not having dinner with you," Beni grumbled.

"But you're so _thin_!" Constance repeated. "Don't you want a proper meal, with all the food you possibly ask for? I've even got _real_ Irish whiskey in the liquor cabinet. I haven't touched the stuff since I lost my poor Walter, but I think tonight's an occasion that calls for it."

"Sounds like a good deal to me," said O'Connell.

But O'Connell didn't know anything about good deals. Women threw themselves at him for no good reason while Beni had to make do with prostitutes and criminals who scorned him. O'Connell had everything handed to him, just because he was tall and strong and American, while Beni had to scrounge around to survive. The only thing Beni had that O'Connell lacked was Constance's undying devotion, though Beni would gladly dump Constance off on the first idiot who would take her.

And yet it was something that O'Connell didn't have.

Beni had something that O'Connell _didn't_ have.

"Where would I sleep?" Beni asked Constance.

"Anywhere you like," she said slyly, giving him a little smile as she drove. It made his skin crawl a little, the way he always felt when she dared to touch him, but he _was_ tempted by the thought of soft pillows and a nice, proper mattress, without any bugs or stains like the mattresses he was used to.

Or any rude neighbors pounding on his door at the crack of dawn, accusing him of some wrongdoing he _definitely_ didn't commit.

"Then I will spend the night. But I will not enjoy it."

As much as Beni hated Constance, he found it hard to pass up the opportunity to sleep in a quiet house and eat a home-cooked meal. The moment Constance fell asleep, he would sneak out a window make his escape in her battered old car.

 _That_ ought to show her what a bad person he was.

They dropped off O'Connell and Beni almost wished he had gone with him, or at least jumped out of the car and followed him, because being alone with Constance was enough to make him ill. She kept going on about how glad she was that Beni had agreed to stay with her, as if she was blind and deaf to all of Beni's scowling and grumbling, and she rambled on about all the comforts Beni would enjoy under her roof, describing everything in her nauseating, eager-to-please way. It was the promise of these comforts that kept Beni from opening up the passenger door and hurling himself into the street.

He _did_ deserve some good food and a soft bed for all of his pains.

It had been one _hell_ of a day.

Constance lived in a little bungalow-style house, painted a soft yellow and bordered with shrubs and flowers that were probably her _pride_ and fucking _joy_. Some people were like that about their gardens. Constance seemed like the type to treat her flowers like they were her own children. The place was neat and clean, though. Much cleaner than any place Beni had slept in the last several months. She probably didn't have a lot of money, if her late husband was in debt to Double Ivan, but her home was a palace compared to Beni's grimy little apartment. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

Constance didn't pull into the garage like Beni expected her to. She abruptly stopped the engine and sat there with her hands gripping the steering wheel, then stared out into the dark night and murmured, "Oh, gosh."

Beni sighed. "What is your problem now?"

"This is really it, isn't it?" said Constance, still speaking in a dazed murmur. "He's really dead."

"I'm hungry," Beni reminded her.

"I spent so many weeks imagining this day. I used to think about what I would wear and what I would say when Ivan finally got what he deserved, but I never expected any of it to be like _this_." Constance reached out and grabbed Beni's hand, clinging so tightly her nails dug into his skin. "Oh, Beni. I'm free, aren't I? I don't have to worry about vengeance anymore. I'm free and I don't know what to do."

"You can take me inside and feed me to start with," Beni suggested hopefully. "I have not eaten all day."

"Goodness! All day? It's a miracle you haven't fainted."

"That is what happens when you are poor and alone. You go hungry and nobody cares."

"Well _I_ care." Constance had recovered from her mood and spoke with a stronger voice, gazing at Beni with a determined light in her eyes. "This is why you ought to be reformed, you know. If you didn't spend your money at the brothel, you would have plenty left for food."

"What money? I cannot be bothered to pay whores unless they force me to."

"But how are those poor women supposed to—Oh, never mind. We'll work on that after you've had a good meal."

Beni didn't bother to hide his smirk. He had never met anyone as stubbornly naive as Constance.

"Have you always been alone, Beni?" Constance asked.

Yet another question that caught him off guard.

"What?" said Beni.

"Have you _ever_ had anyone who's ever cared about you?"

"No, of course not."

"I think that's awfully sad," Constance said softly. She still made no effort to get out of the car. "Everybody should have at least _one_ person who cares about them. Doesn't your friend O'Connell care?"

Beni laughed. "O'Connell is an idiot. He does not count."

"Well you've got me now. I know you have your faults, but… but you shouldn't be alone. Nobody should be alone."

Beni rolled his eyes at this sentimental bullshit. He couldn't believe they were still sitting in the car. "I thought you wanted to feed me," he said. "I am _dying_ of hunger."

"You poor thing," said Constance, throwing her arms around his neck. "Let's get you inside and I'll take care of everything."

"You can start by getting off of me."


	9. An Unexpected Deal

Beni waited until the clock struck midnight before getting out of bed. He was reluctant to leave, since Constance had given him the guest bedroom with the softest bed he had ever slept in—much nicer than the whores' beds at the brothel and definitely better than the lumpy mattress he slept on at home—but he couldn't possibly stay in that house. It implied things that made him uncomfortable.

He forced himself to get out of bed and grabbed his fez off the hat rack, then slowly opened the door to his guest room. It didn't take long for his eyes to adjust to the dark, since he was used to sneaking around at night, and Constance may have kept her word and provided an excellent dinner with all the alcohol he could ask for, but Beni had been careful about his whiskey consumption so he would stay alert.

He planned to swipe the whole bottle anyway. She'd said it herself. She rarely even _drank_ the stuff anymore.

Before he stole anything, though, Beni had to get rid of the gun he had been carrying all night—the one Van Der Veen shoved into his hands after shooting Ivan. The gun that had started this whole mess. Beni smirked as he took slow, deliberate steps down the stairs. He had been waiting for the right place to dispose of the gun and Constance's home was perfect. As long as she remained a suspect, the cops might investigate the house and find the weapon, and if they didn't, then Beni would at least have the damn thing off his hands. He had always found guns to be a hassle, ever since his Legion days, and he kept an eye out for a good hiding place.

He thought he was doing an excellent job of being stealthy until he reached the end of the stairs and heard somebody say, "Beni? Is that you?"

Beni froze, alarmed that the voice didn't come from up above. Instead it reached Beni from the first floor, which meant Constance was downstairs. He had just enough time to hide the gun behind a potted plant before Constance came wandering out of the kitchen, looking like a ghost in a billowy white nightgown. "It _is_ you!" she exclaimed, gaping at him with wide-awake eyes. "What are you doing?"

"I was sleepwalking," said Beni, forcing a tired laugh. "It happens all the time!"

"Are you all right?"

"I will be all right once I'm alone again."

But of course she didn't listen to him. She never did. Beni was starting to wonder if Constance suffered from occasional deafness, because he couldn't imagine how anyone could possibly be stupid enough to ignore all of the hints he constantly dropped her. Her husband was probably better off dead than married to this woman. No wonder he went out gambling and racking up debts with crooks like Double Ivan. It definitely beat staying at home with _her_.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Constance asked.

The house wasn't pitch-dark, since a full moon shone through the windows, and Beni could make out the details of her face as she drew closer; the shadows under her gray eyes, the soft, quivering lips, and the glistening tracks of half-tried tears that trailed down her cheeks. She really was the most pathetic woman he had ever met.

"Yes, I am sure," said Beni, scowling at a tear that had settled just below her eye. "Why are you awake?"

"I couldn't sleep." She dragged one of her billowing white sleeves across her face in an attempt to wipe her eyes. "I keep thinking about… about Ivan. All that blood on his shirt."

"I thought you were glad he's been shot."

"I-I am. He was awful. But…" Constance swept past Beni and sat down on the bottom stair, burying her face in her sleeves. "Oh, gosh. I feel like such a monster for being _glad_. I'm going to go to hell for this, I just know it." She raised her head, revealing fresh tears on her ghost-white cheeks, and attempted a shaky smile. "But I'm sure you're tired. I should stop my wailing and let you get back to bed, shouldn't I?"

Beni could have easily rushed up the stairs, hidden himself in the guest room, and locked the door behind him until Constance went back to her bedroom, but he was suddenly seized by a different idea, an idea that was bound to shake off Constance's ridiculous hero worship.

He would simply tell the truth for once in his life.

"Actually," he said with a grin, "I was not sleepwalking at all. I was planning to take all your whiskey and steal your car."

She blinked, momentarily stunned. "What?"

"I'm going to rob you. That is why I got out of bed."

"No, Beni. You're not going to do that." She looked up at him through her tears, the hint of an optimistic smile at the edges of her mouth. "I'm going to reform you, remember? Your first lesson can start tonight."

"You have got to be kidding me. You still think _reforming_ me will work? I have tried and tried to tell you I am a bad man. Everyone else in Cairo knows it. Just ask anybody!"

"That's _their_ opinion. I don't give a… a _hoot_ about what anyone else thinks!"

Beni was starting to regret hiding that gun behind the potted plant. "What the hell is a hoot? Why don't you just say you don't give a fuck?"

"Oh!" she exclaimed, staring at him with round eyes. "I couldn't possibly say that."

"What is wrong with the word fuck? Why do people have to get so uptight over words?"

"I'm not going to say that word, Beni, and I don't think you should say it either. It's a filthy thing to say."

He found it hard to believe that she could sit there with crimson cheeks and wide, shocked eyes, trying to preach to him about foul language, when she was the one who had prayed for Double Ivan's death.

"What is so filthy about a stupid word?" Beni asked. "People like you think it is so terrible to swear, but there are a lot of things out there that are much worse than a word like fuck."

She cringed. "I told you not to say it!"

"I think I have figured you out," said Beni, watching her react to the word like he had stabbed her in the heart. "You try to pretend that the world is good. That bad things don't exist. That is why you won't swear."

She stared up at him, silent and motionless.

"I did not kill your husband," said Beni. "But I have done a lot of terrible things. A lot of _fucking_ terrible things."

"You really can't be reformed, can you?" Constance said quietly. "You actually _like_ being bad."

" _Finally_ you have figured it out. I'm going now—preferably with your car."

"Wait." Constance's voice sounded stronger, though she played with one of the sleeves of her nightgown, watching the white fabric in a daze. "This Van Der Veen fellow we've been looking for… is he really the one who shot Ivan?"

"Yes," Beni said impatiently. "I have been telling you that all day and night."

"Make sure you and your friend O'Connell keep looking, will you? I want to see him just once and say thank you. That's all I want to do." She looked defeated, as if the utterance of a simple curse word had been enough to undo the oblivious mask she had worn over her eyes. "I'm sorry for everything I put you through, Beni. It's just been so _lonely_ with Walter gone. Lonely and desperate. I'm surprised you haven't smacked me silly."

"You are not the only one who is surprised," Beni muttered.

"I know it's wrong of me, but would you mind doing me one last favor? Would you stay through the night, just this once?"

"Why should I do that?"

"You shouldn't, really. And you don't have to. I would just feel better if there somebody else in the house with me. Ivan may have had plenty of enemies, but he had his share of friends too."

Beni was used to Constance bursting into tears at every little thing, but this time her eyes remained dry as she made her last plea. He remembered the bed in the guest room, with its soft mattress and fluffy pillows, and figured he could sacrifice a little of his sanity for a good night's sleep. "I will stay the night," he said, eying her warily. "But in the morning I'm out of here, _forever_."

"And I won't do anything to stop you," Constance promised. "Now let's get to bed."


	10. A Conclusion

Beni woke up late and thought he was still trapped in the clutches of some terrible nightmare, because he could have sworn he heard Constance's voice calling his name. He groaned and rolled over, burying his face in the soft pillow, and tried to recapture that rare, pleasant feeling that came from sleeping in a decent bed for once. His comfort didn't last long. Constance called him again, stretching out his name so that it sounded like three syllables instead of two, and Beni responded by throwing the blanket over his head to muffle the noise. No woman was going to tell him when to get up.

"Oh, Beni!" Constance cried from just outside the door. "You have to come downstairs! Are you still asleep at this hour?"

He _would_ have been asleep, if it wasn't for the racket she was making. Constance didn't sound upset or alarmed, but strangely excited instead, and Beni finally sat up in bed with another groan. "What the hell do you want?" he demanded.

"It's your friend, Mr. O'Connell. He's waiting downstairs."

"You woke me up so I could see _O'Connell_?"

"Not just O'Connell. He's brought that Van Der Veen fellow with him."

Beni felt considerably less groggy. "What do you mean, that Van Der Veen fellow?"

"He's here!" said Constance. "He's right here in the house and I don't know what to do. Will you at least come downstairs?"

Beni would come downstairs, but not for Constance. He didn't bother to wash up and shuffled out of the guest bedroom and into the hall, his arms crossed in front of his chest and a frown on his face. Constance started to move towards him, as if planning to throw her arms around him or take him by the hand, then quickly pulled back and headed down the stairs, unusually quiet as she led the way. When Beni reached the end of the stairs he found O'Connell and Van Der Veen, just like Constance promised, only he didn't expect to see O'Connell standing guard with a gun in his hand. He kept the barrel aimed at Van Der Veen, who sat on a couch with his hands tied together.

"So she got you to spend the night after all," said O'Connell, looking at Beni with an expression that would have been a smirk, if O'Connell was capable of smirking.

"Oh, shut up," said Beni. "How did you get the Dutchman here?"

"I have a name," Van Der Veen spoke up from his place on the couch.

"Yes, but it is too long and ridiculous," said Beni.

Everything about Van Der Veen was ridiculous. He was a tall, thin man with stringy blonde hair that needed trimming, and he spoke perfectly good English with barely any accent. Yet he insisted on saying _ja_ all the time, just because he was Dutch and seemed to think that everyone expected him to say it.

" _Ja_ ," he said. "But at least I know for sure that it is my father's name."

"What is that supposed to mean, you—"

"That's enough, guys," O'Connell broke in, gesturing with his gun. Beni and Van Der Veen both fell silent. "That's better."

"So how did you find the Dutchman?" Beni asked again, once the gun was pointing at Van Der Veen's head once more.

"Easily enough. He tied my hands together, dragged me out to Izzy's car, drove me here, and put a gun to my head," said Van Der Veen, scowling at O'Connell. "Woke me up from a good dream, too."

"Izzy's car?" Beni echoed.

"Oh, _ja_. Almost broke down on the way here."

"I went over to Izzy's place to see if he knew anything," O'Connell explained. "Turns out ol' Hans was hiding out with Izzy the whole time."

Beni swore under his breath. He had to suffer last night, searching all over Cairo in the company of O'Connell and Constance, when all he had to do was find Izzy's place to get Constance off his back. It could have been so simple.

"What the hell was he doing at Izzy's?" he demanded. "Izzy does not use coke anymore."

" _Ja, ja_ , but he owes me money," said Van Der Veen. "He thought he could get out of paying me if he hid me from the police for a while." He glared at the gun in O'Connell's hand. "I was going to take the money and run, until _he_ showed up."

Beni had forgotten that Constance was in the room until she stepped forward, blinking at Van Der Veen with big, timid eyes. She bit her lip uncertainly, her face drained of all its color, and asked, "So… are you really the one who shot Ivan Ivanov? Did you kill my husband's murderer?"

Van Der Veen stared sullenly at Constance, his lips clamped tightly together.

O'Connell nudged him with the gun. "Tell the lady you did it."

"All right, I did it," Van Der Veen said through gritted teeth. "I shot Double Ivan, and I don't regret it. Somebody would have shot him sooner or later."

"Thank you," Constance said softly. "He was a terrible man."

"You shouldn't thank me. Some would say that _I_ am a terrible man too."

"Don't bother telling her that," said Beni. "She will not believe you."

Constance studied Van Der Veen, her face on the dangerous verge of hysterical weeping or hysterical laughter—Beni wouldn't be surprised if she proceeded to do both at the same time—and finally settled for a shaky little smile. "I'll be sure to visit you in prison," she said. "If you don't mind, I mean."

Van Der Veen's mouth dropped open. "What do you mean, prison?"

"I'm sorry," said Constance. "Mr. O'Connell gave an anonymous tip to the police. I think I hear them now, actually."

"Time to go, then," said O'Connell. "Have fun in jail, pal." He gave Van Der Veen a slap on the back, stuck his gun in his holster, and grabbed Beni by the arm so he could drag him towards the back of the house.

"What the hell are you doing?" Beni whined, struggling to get free.

"Making for the back door," was O'Connell's calm reply.

Beni rolled his eyes. O'Connell had a bad habit of doing whatever he pleased without explaining himself first, and Beni was not in the mood for guessing games. "Yes, but why?" he asked.

"I don't need a run-in with the cops right now. I don't think _you_ do either."

O'Connell had a point. Beni had enough problems on his hands without some policeman recognizing his face and hauling him off to prison. "All right," he said. "I get it. Would you at least let go of me?" He had enough bruises as well.

O'Connell released his arm so suddenly that Beni stumbled for a moment, swearing under his breath when he almost collided with a table. He could hear police officers barging through the front door and picked up his pace, dashing at a panicked run until he slipped past O'Connell and out the back door, out into the safety of the yard.

"Hey." O'Connell's voice stopped him from vaulting over a fence and making way for the nearest alley.

"What?" said Beni, giving him an impatient little glare.

"You gonna miss her?" said O'Connell.

"Of course not. She was a pain in the ass. I am glad to be rid of her."

O'Connell opened his mouth as if he wanted to ask a question, then thought better of it and clamped it shut. Beni sighed and turned away from the house, hating the sight of that cozy home full of soft mattresses and good food. He thought he was doing himself a favor, convincing Constance that Van Der Veen was the real culprit, and now he was left with nothing, just like he was always left with nothing.

"It does not pay to do anything for anybody," he told O'Connell, too weary to sound bitter. "I'm going home."

Maybe when he reached his dark little apartment and dragged himself onto his old, sagging mattress, he could convince himself that the whole ordeal had been an unpleasant dream.


End file.
